Читать книгу Swimming Lessons - Мэри Монро, Мэри Элис Монро, Mary Monroe Alice - Страница 11

Toy woke while the sun was still rosy on the horizon. She quickly went through the motions of her morning routine, then went to rouse a sleepy Little Lovie from her bed.

She paused at the door of the pink bedroom, soaking in the vision of that sweet face swathed in frills and lace. Children looked like angels when they slept, she thought. She hated to awaken her. Moving to the bed, she sat beside her and showered Lovie’s face with kisses, murmuring, “Wake up! Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Lovie rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Is it time to go to day care?”

“No. I have to go to the Aquarium to feed Big Girl. I’m taking you to Flo’s, just for a little while. You can watch cartoons.”

“It’s Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“But you promised me we’d go to the beach.” Her voice was filled with reproach.

“I know. And we will. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Now up and at ’em.” She patted Lovie’s bottom to get her moving, then drew back. Lovie’s arms shot out to grab hold of her and tug her back.

“What, honey?” Toy asked.

Lovie’s small hands reached up to frame Toy’s face like blinders. Toy felt the gentle pressure on her cheeks while Lovie’s blue eyes gazed at her, as though saying fiercely, look at me!

“I wanna be with you,” Lovie said.

Toy’s breath hitched. “I know,” she said, knowing her answer fell pitifully short. “I want to be with you, too. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Lovie nodded and dropped her hands.

Toy picked them up and kissed each one. “I’ll be home in a jiffy and we’ll build that sand castle.”

Flo, bless her heart, was only too happy to mind Little Lovie for the morning, even at such an early hour. When they showed up at her door, Flo greeted them at her front door brandishing a neon green super-squirt gun and calling out, “Tawanda!”

“Oh, brother,” Toy said with a light laugh. Flo was incorrigible. Toy thought the gun was a better toy for a boy than a girl, but Lovie lit up at seeing it. She grabbed the gun and tore out the back door to fill it at the spigot.

“I’ll be back early so we can go to the beach,” she called to Lovie’s retreating back.

“Time for a cup?” Flo asked.

“I wish. But I’d like to get in and out of the Aquarium as early as possible. Lovie is giving me the cold shoulder for going in to work this weekend. She’s so looking forward to going to the beach.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’ll take her.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Toy replied with faint heart, “but I’d like to go with her. I’ve yet to keep my promise to help her build a sand castle. I’ve been so busy this week trying to set up a program for Big Girl at the Aquarium, my little girl is getting the short end of the stick.”

“She doesn’t look the worse for wear.”

“I hope not. But this schedule isn’t about to slow down any, at least not until I get a better handle on things.”

“You know I’m here for you. Anytime”

She felt a rush of emotion. It had always been this way with Flo. “I know.”

Flo narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, then pushed open the screen door and signaled with her hand that Toy should come into the house. “Come on, just for a minute. No whining.”

Toy did so reluctantly. Flo closed the door and sat on the Chippendale wicker bench in the front hall. It fit two women comfortably.

“Now tell me. What’s really bothering you?” asked Flo.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Mmm-hmm. Nothing always means something.”

Toy heard Lovie’s high pitched laughing outdoors, no doubt because she pelted something with a super stream of water. The women chuckled and Toy felt her burden lighten.

“You look worried,” Flo said.

“I am, a bit.”

“Not about Lovie? She’s fine, you know. No child could be loved more.”

“Thanks to you and Cara. You’re like surrogate mothers to her.”

“More like favorite aunts. So, don’t waste your energy feeling guilty about that. If not Lovie, what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem, exactly. I’ve been put in charge of Big Girl at the Aquarium.”

“How wonderful! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she said with hesitancy. “I volunteered for the task and would have been crushed if Jason hadn’t given me the assignment.” She threw up her hands. “What was I thinking? Suddenly I’m aware of everything I don’t know.”

“But that’s normal, my dear. It happens to all of us when we start a new job or a new project. How do you think I got all this white hair?”

“Oh, great,” Toy said with a rueful smile. “I’ll be gray before I’m thirty. That’s always a big help in attracting a husband.”

Flo shrugged. “I never worried about finding a husband. Oh, sure, I thought about it when I was younger,” she said. “It was the natural path for women. You married and had children. Folks were always after me about it, like my being single was a state of affairs I should be ashamed of. I never was in any big hurry. I surely never felt deprived. Just the opposite. Honey, I thrived!” She tossed back her head and laughed.

“After a while, heck, I just didn’t want a husband. I got set in my ways, I reckon. I was fulfilled with my career as a social worker, I made a good living, had dear friends—male and female. I suppose I’d simply accepted that I’d live my life single. Not a spinster…”

She turned her head, eyes blazing, “Isn’t that a horrid word? Spinster? It implies someone old and dried up. Unwanted.” She frowned and shivered with disgust. “Unmarried men are called bachelors. I like that word. It conjures up someone debonair, even sexy. Freedom. Men have bureaus called ‘bachelor chests.’ Can you imagine ever wanting a ‘spinster chest’? Women have ‘hope chests’, for hoping they’ll get married.” Her eyes flashed. “It’s a conspiracy. Don’t get me started on that. No,” she said in conclusion, “I never worried much about finding a husband.”

“I reckon I’ve always worried about it, but at the rate I’ve been working, I’ll never find a husband, either. And lately, I’m too tired to worry about it. So, I guess you and I are alike in that.” She sighed and, growing serious again at the mention of work, leaned back in the bench. She thought about Flo’s life, her unconscious decision to remain single, and her satisfaction—even pride—of that path. Toy had always assumed her primary role as a woman was to marry and have children.

Yet life had taken her down another path. She had, in fact, not married. She had a child and now a career. It was possible she might not ever marry. Her acceptance of that possibility thrust her career as a provider for herself and her child into primary importance. She had to depend on herself.

It was a daunting realization, one that kept her up at night shivering in fear that she’d fail in her career or make serious financial blunders and end up in trouble. This was the dark shadow Flo had spied behind her eyes this morning.

She sighed and began to open up. “I’m afraid, Flo. The other day when Dr. Tom was examining Big Girl, he used medical terms I didn’t know. I pretended I did, but in my notes I was madly writing the words down to look up later. Flo, I live in constant fear that my ignorance will be discovered and I’ll be found out for the fake I am.”

“Oh, Toy…” Flo said with a light laugh.

“Don’t laugh! I’m serious. You can be sure Ethan knew the terminology. He chatted so easily with Dr. Tom, like he was a doctor, too.”

“Well, of course he did. It makes sense, Toy. He has more experience. Isn’t he your supervisor?”

“That shouldn’t make any difference at all. I’m the one in charge of the turtle. But I’m always asking Ethan a question or having him double check most everything I do. I’m terrified of making a mistake. After all, this turtle’s life depends on me.” She wrung her hands. “But sooner or later I have to depend on my own abilities.”

“And you’ll know when that moment comes, my dear. Toy, I’ve been in that very same situation. Most of us have. When I started out as a social worker, the doctors came in and yammered on and on with their ten dollar words. I was shaking in my shoes, just like you are now. I felt downright stupid, completely out of my depth. But you know what happened?”

Toy shook her head. She’d been listening intently, not stirring in her seat.

“I studied hard, like you are now, and learned the words quicker than a hot knife through butter. Toy, every job has its own jargon, some more than others. But you’re young, you’re bright, you’re enthusiastic.” She smiled with great warmth. “You’ll catch on.”

Toy grasped this like a drowning woman. “I am studying every free minute, that’s for true. Why, the other night, poor Lovie fell asleep next to me on the sofa waiting on me to read to her. She looked so cute with her storybook tucked under her arm.” She sighed. “Of course, I felt guilty.”

“Guilt is part of motherhood, my dear,” Flo said archly. “Why would you think you’d be spared?”

Toy looked at Flo’s leathery, deeply lined face and her bright, spectacularly blue eyes. Ever since Miss Lovie had died, Flo had taken up the role of godmother to Toy and Little Lovie. Her advice, though often delivered with a velvet fist, was always heartfelt.

“You sure you don’t want that cup of coffee? Maybe a sweet roll?”

“No, thanks,” Toy, replied, rising. “I’ve really got to go. Thanks so much for listening. I truly do feel better.”

“Go on then and make good your escape. And don’t worry about that little ragamuffin. I got me one of those super squirters, too, and I’m dying to soak her good and proper. We’ll be so wild with our new toys, she won’t even notice you’re not here.”

What a pair, Toy thought but she walked with a lighter step to her car. With Flo’s fiery tongue and Little Lovie’s stubborn streak, they just might be good for one another.

Toy put down the ragtop of the Gold Bug and let her hair blow in the wind. The tide was high as she crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge and the water of the Intracoastal Waterway reflected the brilliant blue, cloudless sky like a mirror. It was going to be a hot one, Toy thought. A lot of beachcombers were going to be happy and Brett’s boat business was going to go through the roof.

Toy glanced at her watch. It was already 7:30 a.m. on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. Traffic was blissfully light this early and she’d make good time. If she worked fast, she’d be home by lunch. Then she’d keep her promise and take Little Lovie to the beach. And this time, she thought as she tightened her hands on the wheel, she’d help build that sand castle.

Toy turned on the radio and hummed as she zoomed over the gleaming new Ravenel Bridge. She liked country music. Songs of unrequited love, broken dreams, fights in bars, life and death. Country music sometimes made her think of Darryl and how he used to sing to her the songs he’d written. She rarely thought of him anymore, and when she did, it was with detachment, like he was dead or from some other life, long ago.

Her future lay before her, she thought with a heady grin. Onward and Upward! Charleston loomed, its church spirals pointed heavenward. Traffic was light on East Bay Street and she make good time, parking in the empty lot just down the road from the Aquarium that would soon be another condominium. The city was changing along the waterfront at a pace that seemed faster than the one she walked as she made her way down the street.

Her Aquarium T-shirt was already beginning to cling to her skin by the time she entered the blast of air-conditioning inside. Her first stop was the compact, industrial food prep kitchen. Big Girl might be emaciated, but she was still a fussy eater. So far, she seemed to like squid best. Toy cut and weighed the squid and fish, thinking as she did so that trying to feed a thirtysome-year-old turtle wasn’t all that different than trying to feed a picky five-year-old child. Toy cleaned up her kitchen mess and brought the food to Big Girl.

“You’re here. Perfect!”

“Ethan?” She hurried toward his voice to find him cleaning Big Girl’s tank with a skimmer. “What’s happened? Is Big Girl okay?”

“She’s fine. I got a call about another turtle.”

“A turtle? Where?”

“At Cherry Point on Wadmalaw Island. The fishermen who found her are bringing her in to the fishery.”

“How did you hear about it?”

“They called me.”

“They called you?”

“Hey, don’t get your panties in a wad. The fishermen down there know me and that I work at the Aquarium. They wouldn’t know who else to call. So, boss, is it okay with you to bring the turtle in?”

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me if it’s okay to bring another turtle into the Aquarium. Into your space?”

She could almost hear the chuckle in his voice. “No. Jason has already given the okay. I’m asking you if you’re ready to take on another one.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t seem to be on this decision tree, or you’d know what my answer would be.”

The prospect of a second turtle was exciting, but the fact that Jason and Ethan had given the okay was thrilling.

“Yes, I do. And yes, I am. Bring it on in!”

“All right, then. I’ve already rustled up another holding tank. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make it. Are you ready to go?”

“Go? Go where?”

“To get the turtle, of course. It isn’t going to crawl in on its own.”

“I thought you said that the fishermen were bringing it in.”

“To the fishery, yes. But not all the way here. They’re already doing us a favor by cutting their day short to bring the turtle to the dock.”

“Oh, sure. Fine.” She looked at the food dish in her hand as her mind spun around all she had to get done. “I just have to feed Big Girl first, and clean out her tank.”

“You feed. I’ll sweep.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. The corners of her mouth lifted to a smile as she felt the tension of the early morning bubble to excitement.

Cherry Point Seafood Company had been in business on Wadmalaw Island since the 1930s. It was a family business that once upon a time had transported passengers as well as seafood and local crops between the Sea Island plantations and Charleston. Back then, local folks could travel to Charleston by either water or horse, and most preferred a boat trip to a long, hot horse ride. Today, there were no more passengers. The long wooden structure with docks that stretched along Bohicket Creek was used strictly for commercial fisherman. It was home to the dozens of shrimp boats and fishing boats that brought in their daily catches.

“Sure seems quiet today,” Ethan said, pulling the Aquarium’s white pick-up truck into the parking lot. The bed of gravel and shells crunched beneath the tires. He cut the engine and the truck shuddered to a halt.

“Well, it is a holiday,” she said, looking out the window. “Likely most folks took the day off.” The fishery looked like a big, roughened wood shack. Along one side was a high loading dock fit for trucks, a smattering of heavy iron equipment, bales of rope, and farther down was the dock. She spied a burly man in jeans and white rubber boots leaning against a wood pillar, smoking.

“Usually the place is jumping, just swarming with fishermen and shrimpers bringing their catch in to be weighed and packed.”

“It’s not very big.”

“Don’t let the size fool you. On a busy day in the season, thousands of dollars of fish go through these doors, packed in ice and shipped out to restaurants and markets all across the country. Used to be there were a number of fish houses in these parts, but this is the only one left. Sign of the times, I guess.”

Ethan wasn’t dressed in his usual Aquarium uniform of khaki. On his day off he was slumming in olive green shorts, a stained white T-shirt and scuffed leather boots that had seen plenty of wear. His dark hair was an unruly mass and dark stubble coursed along his jawline. It occurred to her he looked right at home here on the docks.

“I’ve never actually met shrimpers before,” she told him. “Should I be nervous?”

Ethan appeared puzzled. “They’re just folks.”

“Ethan, I’ve heard the stories,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “How they hate anyone connected with turtles. I’ve heard the names we’re called, too—turtle kissers, turtle Nazis…”

His lips twitched but he only shrugged.

“I know there’ve been some pretty strong words between the two camps over the years. I just want to know if I’m going to have my head served on a platter in there.”

“That was before—sure, there were some, well, unfriendly feelings between some shrimpers and those folks who were demanding that the boats put those TEDS on their nets.” He scratched his neck and added wryly, “Time was, shrimpers called the Turtle Excluder Devices ‘Trawler Elimination Devices.’ Safe to say it was a touchy subject.”

“To say the least.”

“Hey, the bottom line is, those TEDS cost money.”

“But it wasn’t about the money.”

“It was to the shrimpers who had to put out money they didn’t have.”

“Yes, I see what you mean. But, what’s different now?”

“Well, for starters they’ve got the TEDs on every net they own now. And, those turtle shooters work. Hey, they never wanted to hurt the turtles and I think that’s what riled them the most. They were painted as being bad guys when they were doing their best to make a living—a damned hard one—and not getting a break from anywhere.”

“Why are you so defensive? You’re a turtle kisser, too, you know.”

He laughed. “I am. But I see their side of the story, too.”

She turned to look out over the fishery and sighed. “So, no one’s going to bite my head off out there today?”

She felt his gaze sweep over her.

“I think they’ll be enamored.”

A short laugh escaped. “Enamored?”

“Sure.” He reached across her legs to lift the door handle and open her door. “Some of these guys have been out on the sea for weeks. You look a sight better than a turtle.”

She pushed open the door. “Thanks a lot.”

She followed Ethan into the dim, narrow halls of the fish house. Behind glass windows in the large room, the rusting machines lay still. Here and there she’d spy rubber boots but no man to fill them. Only when they neared the office did she catch the scent of burnt coffee and hear the hum of voices, punctuated by a woman’s hearty laugh.

When Ethan stepped into the small, wood paneled office, all talk stopped. Two middle aged, deeply tanned men—one weathered and tall, the other short and paunchy—leaned against a Formica counter covered with stacks of paper. Both wore white rubber boots over their jeans. Across from them, sitting at an ancient wood roll top desk was a sweet faced, robust woman of the same age in a blue floral dress and shiny black flats. They turned to face him, and like lightning, their faces lit up.

“Lookee here! You son of a…sea horse,” the woman sputtered. “Where’ve you been?”

She had to be at least sixty but she leaped up like a woman half her age to wrap soft, fleshy arms around Ethan in a bear hug.

“Shame on you for making yourself so scarce. If I didn’t see you at church from time to time I’d think you’d gone off traveling again.”

“I’ve been busy,” he replied, accepting the rebuff good naturedly. “But you knew I’d be coming home for your barbecue tomorrow. I couldn’t stay away.”

“Your mama’s been cooking pies all week so you’d better be there.” The shorter of the men had eyes the color of sea glass and a thick gray beard that swaddled his cheeks like a wreath. He stepped forward to deliver a few good slaps on the back and mutter words of welcome.

In contrast, the tall man in a worn but ironed flannel checked shirt straightened slowly to his full height. His once dark hair was now mostly gray and his tanned, weathered face had deep lines coursing across his brow, at the corners of his brown eyes and from dimple to chin. He didn’t smile but his dark eyes pulsed with emotion as he extended a callused hand.

“Hello, Ethan.”

She looked at Ethan and saw that he was looking at the man with the same intensity in his stormy brown eyes. And then it struck her how very much alike the two men looked.

“Hello, Dad.” Ethan reached out to take the hand. They held tight for a moment and the emotion in the room was palpable. Then the older man jerked his arm and drew his son into a quick, fierce embrace.

In another minute, everyone was talking and coffee was served, hot and bitter and loaded with sugar. Toy hung back by the door, peeking in. It was a cozy space, as worn and well used as the fishery itself. The paneled walls were covered with small, black framed photographs of the fishery and shrimp boats that dated back fifty years or more. She tried not to eavesdrop but she caught that the other man was Ethan’s Uncle Will and the woman was his Aunt Martha and that Ethan was catching hell for missing church and not visiting his mother in the past few weeks.

His father, Stuart, was quiet in comparison to his sister and her husband, but his affection for Ethan was nonetheless obvious, as was the pride shining in his dark eyes. It was clear to Toy that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in the Legare family.

Ethan, while never boisterous, was as relaxed as she’d ever seen him. He clearly enjoyed being with his family. Smiles came readily, as did the laughter.

Then her name was called and she was brought into the room. Introductions were made and hands were shook. They couldn’t have been nicer or more welcoming and she pretended she didn’t see the suggestive eyebrow wriggling of Uncle Will to Ethan as he nodded her way. She ducked her head and took a swallow of her horrid coffee. There was a matchmaker in every crowd.

She was spared more chit chat when a gruff looking man with a cap over greasy hair shuffled over to poke his head in through the doorway.

“The Miss Peggy’s coming in!”

“That’ll be us,” Stuart said and set down his coffee.

Immediately they filed out of the cramped office into the fresh, salty air. Toy lagged behind. Ethan looked back over his shoulder and catching her eye, waved her closer. When she caught up, he bent close to speak softly in her ear.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? No head chopping or bruises?”

She turned to him “Why didn’t you tell me they were your family?”

“And spoil all the fun? Nothing I love more than to drop the bomb that I come from a long line of shrimpers after listening to a tirade from a Turtle Nazi.”

“I owe you one.”

He replied with a look that, had it not been Ethan, she would have sworn was flirtatious.

The long wooden dock was lined with tall cement pilings, and to these a line of boats, some seventy footers, some but twelve, were tied with thick, coiling rope. She read their names aloud as she walked by Carson Elizabeth, Explorer, Tina Maria, Captain Andy, Miss Charlotte, Miss Georgia.

“Most of the fishing boats are named for women,” he explained. “Wives, daughters, mothers, sweethearts. It’s an old tradition, meant to bring good luck to the men while they are away at sea.”

“Do you have a boat?”

“Nothing big like these. Mine’s about eighteen feet and just for fun.”

“And do you have a name for it?” she asked, shamelessly prying.

“The Wanderlust.” He cast her a slanted glance.

“Suits you,” she replied.

Her attention was diverted by the sixty-two-foot Miss Peggy as it slipped into its watery square of real estate along the dock, growling and churning the waters. With the hanging nets on each side of the boat, she thought they looked like folded butterfly wings. The Miss Peggy was an old girl. White paint peeled from the wood and up close Toy could see the dread rust on metal. But she was still a graceful swimmer and slipped into her space as easily as a younger, smaller fishing boat.

Two men in jeans and white rubber boots climbed out off the high boat to the dock far below as nimbly as ship rats. On board, a wiry, weathered woman with dark gray hair pulled back in a ponytail waved them off, calling out something in a heavy drawl that Toy couldn’t make out. While one of the men bent to tie the ropes, the other, a short, bald, barrel-chested man, came straight for Ethan and sucker punched him in the belly.

Toy gasped as Ethan doubled over. Until she realized that he wasn’t grimacing in pain but laughter. The two men clung to each other, delivering velvet gloved punches like boxers in the ninth round while around them, the other men chortled, enjoying their antics.

“Don’t mind them,” Stuart said to Toy with a good natured grin. “They been fools since they were boys.”

Ethan slapped the other man’s back and turning, caught Toy gaping.

“Toy, come over and meet Bigger. He’s the most conceited, ornery saltwater cowboy on the coast. He’s also my cousin. We went to school together when we were kids, or at least whenever Bigger showed up. Bigger, this is my colleague, Toy Sooner.”

“Colleague is it?” he said with a thick drawl. Bigger lifted expensive black sunglasses to the top of his slightly sunburned bald head and gave her the once-over with eyes as bright a blue as a torch. She felt scalded and knew his mind was up to no good. What he saw seemed to please him, however, because he stuck out his meaty arm emblazoned with a tattoo and took her hand, squeezing tight.

“What kind of a name is Toy?”

“What kind of a name is Bigger?”

Bigger turned toward Ethan, a smile pinching his lips. “She’ll do.”

“Daddy!”

A coltish young girl came running up the dock, all long legs and long black hair flying behind her like a mane. She leaped up to hurl herself upon Bigger, who grabbed her tight and gave her a whirl around the dock.

In a more leisurely manner, a tiny woman with black hair and almond eyes strolled up the dock to join them. On her hip was a little boy, no more than a year, with hair as black as his mother’s. Bigger released his daughter and all bravado fled as, with something akin to reverence, he stepped forward to place a chaste kiss on his wife’s cheek. Their eyes met, his passionate, hers knowing. Toy read more love in that greeting than if Bigger’s wife had run like her daughter and hurled her tiny self into his powerful arms.

Bigger took his son in his arms, pride beaming on his face, and turned to Toy.

“This here’s my wife, Lao. This wild thing is my daughter Lily and this hunk o’ meat is my son, Bill Jr.” He looked at Ethan with bluster. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Shootin’ blanks… Look at me. I’ve got the Miss Peggy, a beautiful wife, two of the best children to roam God’s earth. When are you going to stop wandering and get you some of these?”

“I don’t know, Bigger. There’s nothing like your family or the Miss Peggy, that’s for damn sure,” Ethan told him.

“You bet your ass.”

“Bill…” Lao said softly, frowning at his language.

“Sorry.”

“You’ve got a fine business sitting here just waiting for you,” Aunt Martha said to Ethan.

Ethan cast a wary glance at his father. Stuart’s face remained taciturn.

“We could use the help,” Uncle Will added. “Bigger likes the sea too much to stay in an office and my Jim, he wants no part of the business. Moved off to Atlanta to be some banker.” He said the last word like it tasted bitter in his mouth. “At least you didn’t do nothin’ like that.”

“Ethan has a three-hundred-thousand-gallon fish tank to take care of right now,” Toy said, jumping into the fray. “One of the largest in the country. And hundreds of fish. I’d say that’s something.”

All talk ceased and everyone looked at her like she’d spoken gibberish. All except Ethan. His eyes warmed as he looked at her.

“You and me,” Bigger added, wrapping an arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “We’ve got saltwater in our veins. At least you came back. I knew the tides would call you home.”

“Daddy, where’s the turtle?” the girl asked, impatient with all this adult talk.

Bigger hoisted his son and bent to face his daughter. “So that’s what you come for? The turtle? Not to see your daddy?”

“But I gotta do a report for school,” she whined with pleading eyes.

Lao laughed lightly and cupped her husband’s cheek. “You’re no match for a sea turtle. So where is it?”

Bigger snorted and waved her over. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s go get it. It’s not looking so good, though.” He looked back at Toy. “The faster you get her off our boat, the faster we can unload this shrimp.”

“Yes, sir, captain.” Toy climbed up the wall of the shrimp boat, surprised by how high off the dock it rose. The deck of the Miss Peggy stretched long before her. At first, it was confusing, there was so much going on. There were winches, chains, cables and ropes. Nets hung full from the riggers.

The wiry man she’d seen before stood at the nets and was busy cleaning out the small fish and crabs. He turned his head when she passed and asked in a gravely voice, “You here for the turtle?”

“I am. Or,” she nodded toward Ethan, “we are.”

“Come and git her, then. She ain’t lookin’ so good. Don’t wanna be blamed for killin’ no endangered turtle.”

“Where is she?”

He pointed a heavily tattooed arm toward the rear of the deck. Bigger led them there and lifted a canvas tarp. Under it, a juvenile loggerhead lay motionless.

Toy hitched her breath, stunned at the serious crack that ran across the length of its shell. All business now, she swung her backpack off her shoulders and knelt beside it. The good news was the turtle was alive. The bad news was the gorgeous reddish brown shell was split near in two.

“That’s a nasty crack,” she said in a flat tone.

“Propeller slash?” Ethan asked.

Toy measured the shell at three feet, noted it and a few other observations, then rose. “That’s no propeller slash.” She turned to Bigger. “What happened?”

Bigger cast a wary glance at his daughter. “We were pulling in the big nets, same as we always do. Damned if this turtle didn’t fall right out of the net.”

“You dropped the turtle?” Toy asked, shocked.

“Hell, no. I didn’t drop it. It fell.”

“Daddy, you would never hurt a sea turtle, would you?” Lily asked.

Bigger’s face flushed and he shuffled his white boots. “No, I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t hurt no turtle. But folks like you,” he said to Toy “just can’t believe we care.”

Toy felt tongue-tied.

“She’s not saying that,” Ethan interjected.

Bigger shook his head. “I got a turtle shooter on every net. But hey, it happened. And here she is. I could’ve just chucked her back in the sea. That’s what some others might’ve done. But I brought her in. I called Ethan, didn’t I?”

Ethan slapped Bigger’s back. “You sure did. And I thank you for it. You did the right thing. We appreciate it. Don’t we Toy?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” she blurted out. “Thank you, Bigger. This turtle owes you its life. Any time you see a sick turtle out there, we’ll come out here to fetch it and thank you each time.”

Mollified, Bigger hoisted his son higher in his arms and smiled at his daughter. “Go get your pictures for your project. These folks have to move the turtle and I’ve got work to do. We’re wasting daylight.”

It was no easy task to maneuver the injured sea turtle from the shrimp boat into the crate in the back of the truck. With every move, Toy worried more damage would be done to the badly cracked shell. Ethan’s family went out of their way to help in any way they could, and before leaving, Bigger had promised her a ride on The Miss Peggy, and Lily was beaming that Toy had named the sea turtle Cherry Point.

On the way back to the Aquarium, Ethan was quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Toy wondered about the family man that she’d seen at Cherry Point, a man in sharp contrast to the loner. With his family, Ethan had opened a window to himself she’d never seen at the Aquarium. There, Ethan seemed as mysterious as the twelve foot shark he swam with every day in the Great Ocean tank.

Toy cast a slanted glance at Ethan, eager to learn more about him before he shut the window completely.

“Your family seems very nice.”

He nodded, eyes on the road. “They’re good people.”

“It sounds like you haven’t been home in a while?”

“Never often enough to suit my mom.”

“But you’re a genuine local.”

“Yep. Born and raised. You can’t go anywhere near Wadmalaw without bumping into a Legare. The whole of Johns Island, really.”

“It must be nice to have a big family.”

“At times.”

“Are you close?”

He cast a quick glance. “I guess you could say we are. We have our spats, like most families. But we’ve been in these parts since before The War. Most everyone’s settled somewhere around Rockville or Charleston.”

“Except Jim in Atlanta.” She said “Atlanta” with the same sour tone Uncle Will had used.

That drew a reluctant laugh from Ethan. “Poor Uncle Will. He’s worse than my mother. He never can tolerate any of us moving off. I reckon it’s because we keep losing bits of our land and he’s afraid we’re losing the family, too. He holds on pretty tight.”

“I find that endearing.”

Ethan barked off a laugh. “I’m sure he’d like to hear that.” He shook his head, muttering, “Endearing.”

“Hey, it’s better than enamored.”

“I don’t know but I was right. My family was enamored with you. Especially Bigger.”

“Your cousin is a real character.”

A grin stretched freely across his face and affection gleamed in his eyes. “Yeah, that he is. One of a kind. You wouldn’t want to mess with him, but he’s got a heart of pure gold. Would give you the shirt off his back if you asked him. He’s saved my sorry ass a few times, I can tell you. Guys like him are a dying breed.”

“Did you ever want to be a shrimper, like him? Or run Cherry Point?”

His hands tightened on the wheel as the tires spun beneath them. “No,” he replied at length. “I never did. It’s not like I don’t enjoy going out on the shrimp boats and lending a hand from time to time. Some of my best memories were on board the Miss Peggy. But it’s a hard life. Long hours, tough work, hard men. The dock can be a pretty rough place at times. I used to work there in the summers coming up and some of the stuff I saw…”

He shook his head. “It’s not for me. Never was. When I was a boy, I got a lot of ribbing for having my nose stuck in a book. I read about exotic places far away—Treasure Island, Narnia, Forty Leagues Under the Sea. If I ever dreamed of being a boat captain, it was Captain Nemo. My blood raced at the thought of getting in a boat and just…” He shrugged lightly. “Going.” He stretched out his arm. “Sailing on and on and on. Seeing the world and not worrying about coming back.”

“So, where did you end up going?”

“I went to Woods Hole in Massachusetts for my graduate degree. It’s beautiful up there, but way too cold for a Southern boy. Once I’d left home, I just kept traveling. Farther and farther away. I did marine research in Fiji, the Caribbean, the reefs off Australia, Indonesia, then ended up in Costa Rica. I spent six years there, the longest I’ve ever spent in any one place.”

“I heard that you discovered some kind of bottom dwelling invertebrate?”

He nodded. “But I’m most proud of the work I did drumming up international support for sharks.”

“When you add all that up, I can see how you were an ideal choice to run the Great Ocean Tank.”

“You never know where the knowledge and experience you’ve gained is going to lead you in life. When I was chasing down black market shark poachers, I didn’t think I’d be caring for sharks in an Aquarium. It’s funny how life turns out sometimes.”

“Did your father want you to take over the family business?”

“Yes, sure. It’s only natural that he would. But I think he always knew I was more interested in studying the living fish, not the ones caught to be eaten. And between you and me, he’s the one who inspired my interest. He was the one who taught me the names of all the fish, about their habitats and habits. He never let me keep an undersized fish and was mindful of our role as stewards of the earth and sea. When I went off to study marine biology I got some raised brows from some of the family, but he never once criticized my decision. He always encouraged me to carve out my own destiny.” He chuckled ruefully. “Though he’ll never understand why I ever wanted to leave a place as beautiful as Cherry Point. My greatest fear was that I never would.”

“But you did.”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“And now you’re back.”

“I guess it’s like what Bigger said. The tide brings us back, sooner or later.”

“Sort of like the turtles. You came back home.”

He turned his head to face her. “Sort of. Now, your turn. Where are you from?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, but inside she cringed. In the South, asking someone where they were from was asking for a family history and church affiliation. Toy didn’t have a family to brag on. She was ashamed to admit that her daddy had run off before she was born and the only siblings she had were two half brothers who were mean curs who’d as soon steal from her what little she had as say hello. One of them ended up in jail—to keep his daddy company, her mama liked to say.

No love was lost between Toy and her parents, either. Her mother and step-father had kicked her out of the trailer at seventeen when she got pregnant and never opened the door to her since. Not exactly the warm family bond that Ethan knew.

“I used to dream of traveling the world, too,” she replied, guiding her answer in a different direction. “Like you did. But I never made it farther than Holly Hill, where I was born. My parents moved to North Charleston when I started high school. My life got complicated pretty fast. Now I have my daughter, my job… So much for traveling. I have this recurring dream of a turtle swimming in the ocean, trying real hard to get home. Go figure.”

“Is your family in fishing or conservation or…?”

Toy snorted and shook her head. “Hardly.”

“Your husband?”

“My—” Her breath caught. “There is no husband,” she blurted out.

“I thought…I know you have a daughter,” he said in way of explanation.

There was an awkward silence during which Toy expected him to follow up with a question about divorce, or her being a widow. She tensed, not wanting to go into her history about Darryl and her being an unwed mother.

“So what got you interested in turtles?” he asked.

She silently blessed him for not prying. “That would be Miss Lovie, Cara’s mother. I took care of her when she was sick. She used to live in this big ol’house in Charleston but she loved the beach house. When she got sick she wanted to live there—to die there, I reckon. Anyway, she wanted a companion, so I took the job. Her real name was Olivia Rutledge, but everyone on the island called her Miss Lovie. She was the island’s first turtle lady and the dearest person you’d ever hope to meet.” She looked at her hands. “She was real good to me.”

“Is that how Little Lovie got her name?”

Toy brightened. “Yes. I called her Olivia after her, but it was my neighbor Florence’s mother, old Miranda, who gave her the nickname Little Lovie. It just stuck. It’s a big name to grow into, but I think she’ll manage it.”

He smiled. “Well, if she’s anything like her mother…”

She turned her head to look at Ethan. His dark brows gathered over narrowed eyes as he looked out at the road ahead. She could envision him steering the Miss Peggy, completely at home on the open sea. She thought of all he’d told her of his life and his travels. And looking out at the road ahead, she couldn’t help but wonder what that kind of freedom felt like.